


Companions

by RaeNonnyNonny



Series: Assorted Striketober 2020 [3]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Curry Night, Double Drabble, F/M, I don't understand tags, I will literally go down with this ship so help me God, It goes without saying he loves Robin really doesn't it, Like immediately post-Lethal White, Nick and Ilsa, Post-Lethal White, Strike Fictober 2020 Prompt, Strike loves curry, Striketober | Cormoran Strike Fictober 2020, the very same day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeNonnyNonny/pseuds/RaeNonnyNonny
Summary: Inspired by 2nd October 2020's Strike Fictober Prompt: "Want some company?"Plus an unexpected TV crossover reference...
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: Assorted Striketober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165961
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43
Collections: Striketober | Cormoran Strike Fictober 2020





	Companions

**Author's Note:**

> I found myself immediately post-Lethal White, wondering how the curry night went, about the word 'company' and whether we'd get to see any more of the lady who works downstairs from the office on Denmark Street, who I have established from the TV credits is called Cath.

> _“Tell Roger she has a massive engagement ring.”_
> 
> _\- BBC’s Strike, Cuckoo’s Calling Ep. 1_

  1. **Strike**



As he arrives back at Denmark Street from the house with the double swan on the door, Strike stops outside in the street for a fag.

He leans his shoulder on the wall beside the entrance and squints out at the Soho scene.

Cath from downstairs, who works for Crowdy, the graphic designer, and often chats with him when their need for a nicotine fix coincides, appears alongside him.

“Alright Corm. Want some company?”

Strike shrugs, and shuffles over to allow a respectful distance to remain between them, leaning against the wall next to the buzzer for his flat. He watches workmen walk past to the construction site up the road and lets out a leisurely exhale of smoke.

“Penny for them?” Cath says conversationally, folding one arm over her torso, wrapping her coat round an ample figure and looks up slightly towards the sky where her smoke trails are being blown across his by the evening breeze.

"Nothing to write home about." He half-mutters, half-grunts, but in an airy way, not taking offence. He can shoot the breeze with Cath if she wants.

“So did she get married in the end?”

Strike glances at her but keeps his expression his usual neutral scowl.

“Who?” He know very well who she means but he’s not letting Cath get away with extracting information that easily, and besides, it would ruin the flow of the casual repartee. She can work for it.

“Who!” Cath snorts, unwittingly pulling off a passable impression of Shanker, albeit distinctly more feminine. “Who do you think I mean? Ginny Weasley? Your Not So New Girl. Her in your office with the ring the size of the Emirates Stadium. I see the buzzer’s changed. Managed to keep one for a change did ya?”

“Made her partner, didn’t I.” says Strike, neutrally, thinking fondly of the neat little plaque at chest height where he and Robin's surnames were now joined together with an ampersand etched nearly into the brass.

“Is that so” says Cath, steadily sucking on her cigarette. “What’s her husband think about that?” Cormoran sometimes suspects Cath's interest in his relationship status isn't entirely altruistic.

“Not gonna be her husband much longer so I’m not sure it matters what he thinks really”. Strike knows he is rising to her bait but with a new wealthy client lined up and the prospect of curry and excellent company at Octavia Street later he suddenly finds he doesn’t seem to mind.

Cath cocks an eyebrow slightly at him, mid-drag, but nods as if that was the inevitable conclusion of any woman's relationship in the vicinity of the bear-like PI.

She throws down her cigarette butt, grinding it firmly underfoot.

“Don’t worry; I wasn’t going to tell Crowdy”. She grins briefly at him, winks, then retreats inside.

I really ought to give up smoking, he thinks idly.

\------

> _They parted with a wave, concealing from each other the slight smile that each wore once safely walking away, pleased to know that they would meet again in a few short hours, over curry and beer at Nick and Ilsa’s. - Lethal White_

**2\. Robin**

Robin slides open the patio doors and crunches over the gravel to where Cormoran is smoking, leaning against Nick and Ilsa’s shed. His face seems thoughtful and distant, gazing at the sky turning pink beyond the rooftops, but his brow isn't heavy and for once he looks like he might have slept decently in the last fortnight.

“Want some company?” she greets him, plunging her hands in her coat pocket casually and raising her shoulders a little to snuggle her neck into her scarf.

Strike looks up at her and smiles quickly.

“That's what I'm here for. But I’m saving myself for the Peshwari naan”, he replies. Robin gives him a quizzical look.

"The word company comes from the Latin for breaking bread with someone - i.e. sharing a meal, and in Italy you can't have a meal without bread. The person you share with is your companion. We're getting an Indian, there WILL be naan, ergo company."

Robin rolls her eyes but lets him have a smile. “God, you're such a nerd.”

Nick leans his head out of the sliding door, stripy oven gloves on his hands. “Grub’s up!”

_Half an hour later_

Robin pushes her plate away, pauses and leans back from the breakfast bar, lightly rubbing her belly with satisfaction and looking round at her friends. 

Cormoran meets her eye, splits the remaining naan bread, hands her one half and then swiftly dunks his half in the small pool of mango chutney left on her plate. He grins at her with one of his patented crinkly eyed smiles while he chews it.

“There, you’re my companion now.”

“That just makes it sound like you’re Doctor Who”, Robin scoffs, as Nick and Ilsa exchange subtle smiles at what is, for approximately the hundredth time, clearly the continuation of some private joke.

Cormoran pauses, looking sideways at her. “You do look a bit like Amy Pond.”

Isla guffaws from over beside the sink as Robin blushes and tries to shove Cormoran off his stool in mock anger.

"Well you're not as slight as Matt Smith!"

“More like Tom Baker I think, with that curly hair. I’ll knit you a long stripy scarf for Christmas, Oggy” teases Nick.

"Fuck off, you're just jealous of my sonic screwdriver -" shoots back Cormoran, before he realises what that sounds like out loud and puts his head in his hands.

Robin goes pink as the Herberts just laugh louder.

_Later that night_

Cormoran texts her when he gets in, as he always does, to give her a prompt to always let him know she's safe, and a little bit to let her know the same about him.

“See you Monday, Pond. Don't go jumping into any strange police boxes. Not without me, anyway.”

Robin smiles at his words light up her lock screen. She could live with that nickname.


End file.
